King Henry and the Three Little Trips (The King Henry Tapes)

by Richard Raley

Fucking Paine, he thought since he couldn’t say the name aloud. Fucking Isabel really. Sapa, Three Queens, me even. Ain’t war, but there’s a serial killer on the loose, kiddies, so go home after school. Oh, your school is your home? Sixteen-hundred of you innocent anima batteries just sitting there for the taking? My, my . . . maybe I will try to steal a few . . . or maybe I just convince a few, that’s an even deeper wound, ain’t it?

  Teenage King Henry probably would’ve just taken more security as a challenge. Me too, maybe, just not the security at the Asylum I’m interested in. Would it all make a difference if Paine really tried something? Hard to tell before the moment. Would it keep the Learning Council from being in deep shit with parents after it happened? A little.

  Suppose I should be happy they’re actually acting on the problem beforehand this time around. Shows some initiative for once, not that Wait-and-See shit that let Isabel blow up in their faces the first time around. Visitor badges and the guards would make it harder for Isabel to sneak on campus. Maybe that’s what the Lady was worried about, not some attack but Isabel sneaking in and nabbing a kid or two.

  Facechangers . . . forget visitor badges, they should have a tracking chip injected into each butt-cheek just to be sure.

  But then you got into more authoritarianism than King Henry was comfortable with. Might already be at more authoritarianism than King Henry was comfortable with. Guild is bad enough over my head; imagine if I had to check in with ESLED once a week like the mentimancers do. Tell them every time I used anima . . . keep a chart. No easy answer to the problem one way or the other, just conflicting values.

  Guess that’s life, shit-show that it is.

  King Henry crossed the horseshoe road on foot, sun almost completely gone by now, a whole world that was stretching shadows at war with golden pools of yesterday. The streetlamps of the Park were already lit, glowing the faint white of LEDs. Ruined the ambiance of the Park being a park just a little bit, but the Asylum had always been on the forefront when it came to green energy, here the LED solar-powered lamps were no different. They put them in while he’d been attending; at the time he’d enjoyed that they slowly lost luminosity during the night, making 4AM to 5AM prime sneaking time.

  More security cameras will make the Second Favorite Asylum Pastime of grunting and humping a little more awkward in finding a spot. First Favorite Asylum Pastime of gossiping would have no trouble at all. King Henry wondered briefly who the gossip queen of the school was now that Naomi had upgraded to a teacher. Though he doubted becoming a teacher or even getting the stick implanted in her butt would keep Naomi from gossiping. Just about the faculty now, not the students. Too bad she’d never gotten over the whole Dad-caught-me-motorboating-your-titties thing or she might have been a good informant.

  Might still be a good idea to look her up this weekend . . . better dealing with her than Miranda. Both of them were teachers. So was Debra Ramirez. Could invite myself over to Ramirez Family Dinner . . . if I could stand Estefan whining about whatever Estefan currently feels like whining about. Four teachers, two ESLED agents, two Recruiters, a Society member, a Circle member, a FIND team, and an Indian guy working for a mad scientist . . . not so bad really. Sure, just ignore that two of us are dead, one of us is a murdering nutjob, and that I’m me . . . almost looks good with them rose-tinted glasses, don’t it?

  King Henry gave a nod to the lone ESLED agent he crossed paths with. No teachers, no students as of yet. Last class of the day, they’ll be cranky as shit when they get out, especially the ones scheduled for the second dinner hour.

  The things King Henry put up with for fish tacos.

  Teenagers, bunch of little shits every one of them.

  *

  The lunch ladies were so happy to see King Henry that they gave him a dozen fish tacos. See, some people like me!

  Growing list really . . . having accepted all his strings and friendships it was getting annoyingly long. Lunch ladies on Team King Henry . . . free fish tacos for life, just got to move to the Asylum to make it happen.

  Yeah, he’d rather die first.

  Rather end up Isabel’s sex slave for life over that shit.

  Especially with Val all the way in London.

  King Henry frowned as he contemplated taking the first bite of fish taco, savoring the anticipation. First time he’d thought about Val today. Getting better, if forgetting her is better. Hard to forget her given where he was sitting and who would be walking through that door in about half an hour. Ultra Single table, place where it all began. Who was an Ultra Single? Why Christmas Ward. Artificer Christmas Ward. Val’s sister Christmas Ward. Won’t stop sending me emails and texts about the Mancy every time she’s on vacation or can sneak it by the Asylum censors Christmas Ward . . . girl takes being a good student beyond even Miranda Daniels levels.

  But he kind of . . . might have . . . just a little . . . liked her. Once they got the whole I’m-not-a-mancer-I’m-going-to-Stanford-law-with-the-other-SJWs shit out of her system. One good thing Paine’s done is convince that girl to come here . . . even if he tried to kidnap her in the process.

  Val. Paine. Geo Realm.

  “That’s when you showed up, Mini. Me half dead and you leave me in Miranda’s care, what the fuck were you thinking, huh?”

  The steel cube sat next to his plate of fish tacos. It looked lonely. It also made no comment.

  “What’s the matter, got stage fright now that people are around? Just wait till the kiddies get here, be really crowded then. Or you just scared they’ll think I’m crazy?”

  It is embarrassing to admit I almost killed you by trying to protect you, Dirt King, the cube finally wrote.

  “Not your fault, Mini. What were you, a few hours old?”

  Minutes.

  “See . . . all I did was pass gas and throw up at that age, so you’re ahead of the curve. Just think, I get you a golem to run around in and you’ll be walking even before you’re a year old.”

  Will be nice, if the Toymaker complies.

  “He’ll do it. He’ll tell me the twenty different ways in which I’m being an idiot, but he’ll do it. First time I’ve ever asked him a real favor. Might even give him a heart attack, then I can just steal all his books.”

  Your food grows cold, Dirt King.

  “Fine, I’ll eat, but you better talk when Plutarch is around.”

  He will question me greatly.

  Damn right he will, King Henry thought as he took his first bite and groaned at the peppery-lime-fish goodness, might even get a few answers out of you, faithful protector.

  When the Singles arrived he was halfway done with his plate, belly feeling full, but his eyes and taste-buds not nearly sated. Still, he forced himself to bunch up the six remaining fish tacos in a paperbag that the lunch ladies had provided for him. Late night snack taken care of, since there’s no way I’m sleeping tonight, no matter what T-Bone wants out of me. Maybe tomorrow. He could sleep tomorrow after Mini was taken care of.

  Too much to do, too much to plan. No relief except for fish tacos. Ain’t nearly as much relief as the loving embrace of a woman, but it’s all I got at the moment. Women . . . too much fucking trouble, am I right or am I right? Heh.

  That’s what King Henry told himself at least.

  For one of the few times in his life, after the Val and Isabel One-Two Combo, he was taking a break from chasing ladies, be they serious or even his usual one-night stands. Let T-Bone be the ladies man for awhile. Not like there were a lot of women around King Henry would want anyway. Val was half a world away, Eva was in a coma, and Annie B was still in a glass prison. There’s always Isabel, ain’t there? And she can be the other three no problem.

  The thought made the recently eaten fish tacos boil in his stomach uncomfortably.

  No women, just their family . . . family that somehow became my responsibility too.

  The Ultra Single Class of ’18 bunched around their designated tables one after another as they returned from the dinner line
. None of them sat, they just stared at him, trying to decide what to do. Singles . . . never sure if something’s a test that they haven’t been clued in on, in awe with the whole thing even after six months at the school. “I won’t bite,” King Henry told them, grinning in a way that said maybe he would. “Just a visitor getting a meal, even got a badge, see?”

  One of the kids, a boy in pyromancer colors, spoke up as the leader. “You’re partly in uniform. Were you a student?”

  King Henry leaned around him and the others enough to spot Christmas still in line getting her food. She was chatting with a sciomancer girl. Sciomancers make wonderful friends, but not good lovers, Plutarch had told King Henry once, getting us to move challenges them at first, but after a time it’s too much of a frustration. “What else would I be, a vampire?” he kept toying with the pyromancer boy. “They’re a lot prettier than I am.”

  A few behind the boy decided that they should just sit on the far end from King Henry or the other tables and call it good. Others kept studying. “You’ve met vampires? Are you in ESLED then?” the boy asked.

  “Teaching Singles about ESLED now are they?”

  “We had an assembly when they introduced the new security measures,” a girl informed. She was a ginger and wore aeromancer colors. Too thin and spindly to be a direct blast from the past, but close enough.

  Pyromancer boy rolled his eyes at her. “Also, my uncle is in ESLED.”

  “As you never tire of telling us,” the aeromancer girl scolded him.

  He opened his mouth to respond in kind, but King Henry interrupted, “Don’t argue with a Daniels, it won’t get you anywhere. Just walk away and eat your tacos . . . better use of your time.”

  Pyromancer kid and his friends laughed before going over to sit on the bench behind King Henry. The Daniels Single glared. “You are a graduate.”

  “Yup.”

  “Which of my cousins were you in class with?”

  Gave her a bit of a smirk. “Miranda was the goody-two-shoes, stick-up-her-ass prude I was cursed with.”

  She took in his geomancer colors again, green eyes wide. “Oh.”

  Showed some more teeth. “Yup.”

  That was just a little weird. The girl looked at him like students usually looked at Ceinwyn. Find out I’m a BAMF and a living legend all in one day. Just wait until I rip Paine’s heart out and they might build me a statue. If they did, he’d make sure to be the first person to graffiti it with curse words.

  Christmas finally made her way to the Single tables by then, hazel eyes alight when she noticed King Henry sitting there. She came right up and sat down beside him, turning only to motion the Daniels girl to go elsewhere. “He’s fine; he’s a friend of mine, Ester.”

  Ester’s pale, freckled jaw dropped just a little. “But he’s King Henry Price!”

  The tables quieted all around for a bare second before picking up with whispered gossip. Christmas let out a sigh. “Maybe now you’ll believe what I told you about what happened to me before I came to school, won’t you?”

  Ester turned red and glared, but said nothing as she stalked over to find a seat with another group of girls.

  “How’s it going, kid?” King Henry asked Christmas like everything was no big deal.

  She seemed well. He’d seen her a few times since Val and him had rescued her from Paine. Family dinner at the Ward’s this winter break . . . nothing like sugar-free almond-chia cookies for the holidays. Christmas wasn’t her sister, would never be her sister, very much not that force of nature type of mancer that the Mancy occasionally kicks out. She took after her father’s side of the family. Medium height, some curve and plump to her, brown hair without a bit of life to it. She was cute but plain, except for her hazel eyes, which glowed like jade mixed with amber. Hell of a student, smart, inquisitive, so inquisitive she hunted down Plutarch’s house before she was even here a month.

  “Have I thanked you lately for convincing me to attend the Asylum, King Henry?”

  “Every time I see you . . . getting kind of annoying really.”

  “I’ve never had this much fun before,” Christmas stated, “so much to learn and then all the activities and the clubs and new people to meet . . . I think about how I might have given all this up and I never would have known the mistake I’d made . . .”

  “Yup, definitely getting annoying, kid.”

  “What are you here for? Not my sister this time—obviously—so what is it?” Christmas asked before biting into her own fish taco.

  He pointed at Mini’s cube. “His fault.”

  Christmas studied it. “I don’t understand.”

  “Quit being rude, Mini, and say hello.”

  The word ‘hello’ formed on the steel.

  Half-chewed fish taco dropped out of Christmas’ mouth. “It’s a corporeal anima concentration! You have a corporeal anima concentration? Can I touch it? How smart is it? It’s made from geo-anima, right, so why can’t I sense it? My senses are very good according to Mr. Gullick.”

  “Yes, if you want, smarter than a dog for sure, and they can hide unless you know how to ferret them out apparently. No comment on Mr. Gullick, he’s not really a fan of mine anymore.”

  Christmas pushed her food to the side, picking up Mini’s cube and studying its edges. “What did you do?”

  King Henry considered how truthful he should be. “I don’t think you’re old enough. Also don’t think your parents would approve of me telling you.”

  “Valentine mentioned his daughter being in your class. I think she’s a teacher now.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I’ll ask her about it then.”

  “Naomi?”

  “No, my sister.”

  “Right, her.”

  Please stop shaking me, Mini begged as Christmas began another experiment.

  “Wow, complex sentences too. She’s miserable you know.”

  “ . . . wha?”

  “My sister . . . I get half an hour of phone time every Sunday due to my grades and because she’s a Learning Council employee she’s on the approved list. She’s trying to put on a good front, but I can tell she’s miserable sitting behind that desk. Give it a few months and she might even admit she made a mistake accepting the job . . . not that the mysterious and wonderful and perfect Valentine Ward makes mistakes . . . but . . . maybe she’ll call it a slight error in judgment or something.”

  King Henry took Mini’s cube away before she started bashing it on the table to see if it would break open. He had a feeling that a few of her more amphibian childhood pets might have been dissected. “I didn’t come here to talk about her.”

  Christmas squinted at him. “Uhuh.”

  “Really. Just checking in on you since I feel responsible for you . . . a tiny bit. Nothing to do with your sister.”

  “She went on a date last weekend. The guy didn’t curse once and was a perfect gentleman . . . she was very disappointed,” Christmas informed.

  “Not interested, don’t care,” King Henry reaffirmed while craving every single detail more than he had the fish tacos.

  “She has another date tomorrow with a different guy—”

  “Don’t make me sic my fairy on you, kid.”

  Christmas’ hazel eyes got big. “Can you do that? Can he leave his cube? Is he a he? Did you call him ‘Mini’? What are you doing with him at the Asylum anyway?”

  “Mostly pranks and not explosions, yes, open for debate but leaning male, he’s named Mini until he tells me differently, and I’m here to make Plutarch teach me how to make a golem.”

  “Can I come and watch?” Christmas begged.

  “No.”

  “Please!?!? I’ll ask zero questions,” Christmas lied.

  “He’s grouchy enough without any teenagers being around, wait your turn to deal with him when you’re a graduate.”

  “He’ll probably be dead by then,” Christmas pouted. “You get to learn from the great Plutarch and have him all to yourself and I’ll ha
ve to share whatever stuffy replacement the Guild sends.”

  “His majesty has returned!” a voice called behind King Henry, a few tables down. “I didn’t believe it when I heard it, but here he is in the flesh!”

  King Henry turned, doing a double-take at the two students walking up to him. They were . . . older than his mental picture of them. Still teenagers, but almost adults. Voting and smoking age if not drinking age, or close enough to it. Sure as shit not the Singles I remember them as.

  Maxwell Lamont had grown up into the pretty boy that King Henry had always expected he would, though a pretty boy with a swimmer’s frame instead of a traditional jock’s block of muscles. Wide shoulders, long arms, skinny waste, big feet. He’d be a goofy looking fucker if Momma Lamont hadn’t passed on those supermodel genes to him, making his face chiseled and perhaps a little too beautiful for a man to be called ‘handsome’ but instead ended up striking. Look at that, even grew in the mustache all the way.

  Next to Max was his girlfriend, Tatiana Itani . . . who had also grown up. Ultra corpusmancer, same class as Max, same class that King Henry had been the student-advisor for his final year at the Asylum. Max saw himself as the most badass athlete on the planet until he ran across Tatiana. At fourteen she’d been a slightly tall girl with a blocky physique and the natural ability to know what to do, be it with a baseball bat or a soccer ball, now what little of her King Henry could see peeking out of her colors was like some sampling of DaVinci anatomy sketches.

  She was Lebanese Columbian . . . which was apparently a thing. Multiculturalism, we might have too much of it . . . says the guy with a black friend who was raised by an Asian guy, who was himself raised by white okies. One side of the globe apart or not, them genes worked well together. Her skin was lightened crème, her hair and eyebrows thick, dark slashes, and her features were bold and as brash as Tatiana herself.

  Both of them were showoffs and very certain of their place in the world except when compared against each other. They always tried to top each other on the Field or in the Gym or at the Pools. Even the Hall with the video games if someone makes a bet of it. Only place they didn’t compete was in Class Rank . . . mostly because neither was much of an intellectual.